“You are thinking of the past." I put my arms around her. She'd risen from childbed too soon. "We are the past," she said.” — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
“I play out the cards. They say: This is Heaven, this is Hell. It is one.” — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
“My other treasure was my virginity, and I'd thought of selling it too, years back, to the steward's hunchback son. I had refrained, holding… — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
The Confessions of Catherine de Medici is a dramatic, epic novel of an all-too-human woman whose strength and passion propelled her into the center… — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
Splendid,' Abbé Patin said with a sheepish grin, pulling up alongside. 'There is nothing quite so thrilling as riding in fear of one's life. — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
“He calls me Josephine. He says I'm an angel, a saint, his good lucky star. I know I'm no angel, but in truth I… — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
“I confess that I enjoy this vocation, in spite of my sex. I feel a certain thrill, as if I were visiting a lover.… — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
The Queen has been guillotined, accused of crimes beyond imagining. Last night she appeared to me in a dream, handing me her head. — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
Daggers ever at the ready, I went about the day: children fed, linens mended, bedclothes aired. In little ways one conquers fear. — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
“I nodded yes. Another deceit. I have become a person I do not care for.” — Sandra Gulland Copy Share Image
